


Sway

by Toast_Senpai



Series: 100 Kinks [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Anal Sex, Chris does a lot of thinking, Lewis really loves his gin, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toast_Senpai/pseuds/Toast_Senpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he can stop the words, Chris asks, “Do you have a boner?”<br/>“Maybe,” is the half-whispered reply.<br/>To Chris it sounds like a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> For the 100 Kinks challenge. Prompt: Wake up in the middle of the night and have sex (then go back to sleep).

Chris swipes the keycard at the door of room 505. The lock clicks and he pushes down on the handle. Behind him, Lewis stumbles into his back. Chris rolls his eyes and steps inside the hotel room. He taps the light switch and the two bedside wall lamps flick on to illuminate the room with a yellow glow. He holds the heavy door open for his roommate. Lewis squeezes past him and manages to bumble inside.

“Now I know why they call you Brewis Ginley,” Chris says as he lets the door close. He leans heavily against it, watching Lewis. The man attempts to kick off his shoes while laughing.

“Hey, I have a _very_ special relationship with gin. We’re close friends.”

Chris smiles and shakes his head. He crosses his arms. “You doing all right? Need any help?”

Lewis finally succeeds in removing his shoes and almost topples over. He catches himself by grabbing onto the dresser the TV sits on top of. The room isn’t huge, but it’s spacious enough for two queen sized beds, each with their own nightstand. In the corner next to the window is a cream colored desk and sleek rolling chair. Their luggage is stacked on the floor next to it.

“I’m fine.” Lewis straightens up and looks at Chris. His hair is a wild mess and goatee a dense shadow. “I feel fantastic, really. I don’t know why we left.”

“Because I actually want to get some sleep?”

“Boring Sips. You’re so boring. You’re such a dad.” Lewis laughs at his own words. He digs around in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Yeah, I’m boring and I’m a dad. You got that right.”

Lewis takes out his phone. “God, I feel like dancing. We should’ve stayed. Get over here, Sips. Let’s dance. There’s this song…”

Chris pushes away from the door. He walks past Lewis and sits down in the desk chair. He takes his time unlacing his sneakers.

When Lewis finally manages to get the song playing he turns the volume up as loud as it will go. It’s only midnight, but Chris has had enough of drunk Lewis. They’d been out with the others since six. He’s tired and just wants to have a shower and then go to sleep. Tomorrow they have to be up at a decent time, probably eight. Turps had said something along the lines of a signing but Chris can’t be bothered to remember the details right now.

Lewis tosses his phone onto Chris’ bed (the one closest to the window) and starts to clumsily move about. Chris leans back in the chair and watches. It doesn’t look much like dancing. Lewis hums along to the electronic dance music, seemingly really into it. Chris scrubs a hand over his face. He thinks that he’s too old for this, that _Lewis_ is too old for this. The music is good, though. Something Ross would probably listen to. But Lewis’ inebriated moves are pathetic. Chris smothers a grin behind his hand before he takes off his hat and drops it onto the desk.

Seeing Chris staring, Lewis shuffles towards him. He grabs Chris’ wrists and tugs, but Chris stays put.

“C’mon, Sips. Dance with me.”

“No way,” Chris says. He manages to suppress his smile.

“Just for a little bit. I want a partner.”

“Go get another bottle of gin. You have some in the mini fridge.”

“Gin can’t dance.”

“Neither can I.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Lewis childishly swings Chris’ arms back and forth. With a sigh, Chris stands, deciding it can’t hurt to humor the man. Lewis lets him go and instead drapes his forearms over Chris’ shoulders. He leans his weight forward and their chests almost touch. Chris stands still at first before he slowly brings his hands to Lewis’ hips. They are just about eye level, and Chris watches as a huge smile splits across Lewis’ face.

They’re close, and Lewis bumps his knees into Chris’ own. He tries to look down but his forehead taps Chris’ nose.

“Sorry,” Lewis mumbles, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath.

Chris doesn’t respond. He instead tightens his grip on Lewis and attempts to lead him in small circular steps, a ballroom dance that doesn’t suit the music. Lewis doesn’t seem to mind. He stares down at their feet and makes clumsy footfalls, often times stepping on Chris. They find themselves in the middle of the room between the beds.

The song’s beat is slowing down, nearing its end. Lewis doesn’t appear to notice, lost in his own hazy world. His hands lightly touch the back of Chris’ head and comb at the short hair there. He holds Chris’ gaze, face only a few inches away. Lewis’ eyes then drop to Chris’ mouth and he stares. They gradually stop moving.

Chris doesn’t know what Lewis is thinking, but he can probably make a guess at what his plastered thoughts are about. Chris himself hasn’t touched anything but water all night and is clear headed, although a bit drained. In his mind he debates briefly over whether or not it’s worth taking a risk tonight. He knows Lewis well enough, but has never considered initiating anything. Maybe he’s only thinking about untoward things now because Lewis is looking so intently at his mouth.

He wants to keep contemplating, but Lewis doesn’t give him any more time. Lewis looks back up, eyes just about closed. Chris knows that he can turn his head to the side, but he decides against it. He allows Lewis to touch their lips together. It only lasts a brief moment.

The song ends, and Lewis blinks several times. His expression changes instantly from booze-induced happiness to a kind of dazed confusion.

“Um,” is all he manages to stutter out.

Chris feels the body against his tense and try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. Lewis finally gives up after a full minute of attempted struggle and remains oddly still. He slides his hands from Chris’ shoulders and they hover in front of Chris’ chest. It looks like he’s preparing to give a shove, but they only come to rest lightly against Chris’ shirt front.

Lewis worries his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at the far right wall. The fan under the window kicks in and startles him. Chris feels him shiver.

“Lewis. Look at me,” Chris says quietly.

He’s hesitant, but Lewis steadily turns his head and meets Chris’ eyes. Chris can see the fear in his face behind the drunken blush. It’s attractive in its own funny way.

Chris pulls Lewis flush against him. Lewis tips his head back a bit, jaw clenching. He’s warm, and his heat soaks slowly into Chris. This could go terribly wrong, Chris thinks, but it’s worth a shot.

“Relax,” Chris says.

Lewis’ body remains rigid. Chris gives a short sigh. He wants to add some sort of reassurance, since Lewis is starting to look remorseful about what he has just done, but he knows Lewis too well. It’s no use telling him that it’s all right. He’d just worry about it and try to apologize later.

Chris watches as Lewis opens his mouth, probably prepared to say something dumb. Hoping to catch him off guard, Chris leans forward. Their lips connect, but Lewis is quick to pull away. Chris doesn’t let him go. He slides a hand to Lewis’ upper back.

“I said _relax._ ” Chris’ voice is firm, serious.

“But I’m-”

“I know you’re drunk.” Chris brings his hand up further, to the base of Lewis’ neck. He’s able to touch their foreheads together. “Just let me kiss you,” he says almost too quietly.

The room is silent save for the fan’s hum. Chris wonders if Lewis is going to reject him. But the man takes in a shaky breath.

“Okay.”

Chris doesn’t waste any more of their time. He kisses Lewis fully, holding him in place. He doesn’t have to worry, though. Lewis’ body unwinds and he’s wobbly again. Chris keeps him grounded, flicking his tongue between Lewis’ lips to push at teeth. Lewis hesitates only a second before opening his mouth and letting Chris in. Lewis closes his eyes. Chris wishes they would stay open, but he can’t be bothered with ordering Lewis around anymore when he’s drunk.

A small feeling of guilt nags at Chris’ chest below the heat of Lewis’ hand. Chris tries to forget about it and focus on the stale taste of gin in Lewis’ mouth, but he can’t shake it. Kissing Lewis is distracting, but not distracting enough.

Chris huffs out a breath through his nose and separates them. Lewis blinks his eyes open and tilts his head. Chris releases him and slips from Lewis’ hands. He walks over to the table.

“Sips?”

Next to the coffee maker is the ice bucket. Chris picks it up and inside finds a plastic liner. He opens it and puts it in its place. Ignoring Lewis he makes his way to the bathroom and turns on the tap. The water from the sink fills the ice bucket until it threatens to spill over. Chris shuts it off and returns to the room. Lewis is sitting on his bed, hands between his thighs, staring at the floor.

“Here,” Chris says. “Drink _all_ of this. I’m going to take a shower. It better be empty by the time I’m done.”

Lewis takes the bucket and Chris searches for his pajamas. His ears strain, waiting for the complaint he’s sure to receive. But Lewis says nothing. Chris heads to the bathroom and closes the door.

He hates showering at hotels. There’s never any decent water pressure. Chris frowns at himself in the mirror as he strips out of his clothes. He pulls off his ring and sets it on the counter. The little bottles of shampoo and conditioner are grabbed along with a bar of soap. It’s one of the only good things, the convenient travel sized bottles perfect for a couple days use. The shower is set to a medium heat and Chris steps inside.

While he lets the spray hit his back he wonders what Lewis is going to remember. He knows that man isn’t smashed enough to forget everything that happened. He has to be thinking about it now. Regretting it? Chris clicks his tongue. He isn’t even thinking about himself in this situation. He gave Lewis the water in hopes of sobering him up as much as possible. But he isn’t going to kiss him again. He isn’t going to try anything again, especially not when Lewis is drunk. Then and there Chris could have taken full advantage of him. He knows that Lewis would have went along with it.

A small curl of arousal flicks low in his gut. Chris takes the small shampoo container and squeezes out too much into his hand. He furiously rubs the gel into his hair. No, he won’t think about what he would have done had his common sense not kicked in. He isn’t that kind of guy. Even if there’s nothing more that he wants to see than what kind of faces Lewis would make underneath him.

Chris runs his hands over his face, purposely getting soap into his eyes. He turns and rinses, trying to stop his skipping thoughts. The Chris in his mind laughs at his attempt. He knows he’s doing it to himself but he’s never been good at suppressing thoughts. He’s mastered the poker face but has yet to rein his wild imagination.

He finishes up fifteen minutes later. Chris takes his time putting on his pajama pants and worn Nirvana T-shirt. He scans his eyes across the counter and realizes he forgot to bring his toothbrush in.

In the main room Lewis is lounging on his bed, eyes barley managing to stay open. The ice bucket is in his lap. Chris steps over and looks in it. Only a thin layer of water remains. He says nothing and finds his toothbrush.

By the time he’s done so is Lewis. The bucket is empty. Chris grabs Lewis’ arm and pulls the man to his feet.

“Your turn,” Chris says. He pushes Lewis to their luggage. “Get your stuff and shower.”

“But ‘m tired.”

“Too bad.”

Chris refuses to lead Lewis anymore. The guy’s a big boy. He can do it himself. Chris waits until Lewis is in the bathroom before he ruffles his bed, pulling the sheets from their tucked corners. He throws a scratchy blanket onto Lewis’ bed. The man will probably need it. Chris has never liked those kind of warm blankets. All he needs is the comforter and sheet. He stacks a couple pillows up, snatches his phone, and gets under the covers. He switches off the lamp on his side.

Lewis is surprisingly speedy. Or maybe it feels like he’s fast because Chris is browsing Reddit. Lewis comes out of the bathroom looking much like himself in soft plaid pants and a baggy shirt. He flops onto his bed and lets out a long groan. Chris swallows hard and gives a small cough.

“Don’t forget the light,” Chris reminds him.

Lewis reaches up and the room goes dark, save for the light from Chris’ phone.

“Goodnight, Sips.”

“Night.”

He only spends a few more minutes scrolling before Chris sets his phone down. The dark combined with the rumble of the fan next to him make the perfect atmosphere. It’s only two minutes before Lewis starts to half snore, a curious sound that oddly isn’t annoying. Chris finds his mind drifting before finally he’s asleep.

* * *

It’s early. Chris feels a weight stretched out on top of him. His initial reaction is to struggle, but he restrains himself. He opens his eyes, hoping that they will quickly adjust to the darkness.

“I’ve been waking up every half hour to piss,” Lewis says close to his face.

Chris huffs a small laugh and relaxes. He grabs his phone to check the time.

“It’s only been about four hours,” Chris says and sets it back down. 

“Still a lot of pissing. I blame you.”

“You should be thanking me. You don’t feel like shit, do you?”

“I know how to reduce hangover symptoms without your help.”

“I’m sure you do.” There’s a space of silence between them. Chris closes his eyes before he blinks them back open. “Do you remember what happened?”

Above him, Lewis is quiet. Chris is able to see the outline of his face. The air feels a bit charged between them. Chris is going to tell him to forget it, but Lewis speaks.

“Yeah. I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Chris sighs.

“Spend a holiday with me and then you’ll know what I’m like when I’m _really_ drunk.”

“So you were in your right mind when you kissed me?” Chris chances.

It takes slightly longer for Lewis to reply this time. Chris feels a small shift above him.

“I… The alcohol gave me courage, really. But… But for the most part I knew what I was doing.”

The words give Chris a bit of relief. So he hadn’t been taking full advantage of Lewis. It was nice to know.

After that Chris senses a minor change in Lewis. He is able to see the man’s face above him, still covered in darkness but there’s enough light coming in under the door from the hallway for Chris to adjust to and see that Lewis is staring at him. Chris half expects for Lewis to start questioning him, but nothing is said. There’s another physical shift from Lewis, and this time Chris’ throat tightens.

Before he can stop the words, Chris asks, “Do you have a boner?”

He watches Lewis wet his lips. There’s a fifty-fifty chance of Lewis either getting off him or saying something. After what is probably much mental debate, the man finally chooses the latter.

“Maybe,” is the half-whispered reply. To Chris it sounds like a challenge. The solid heat pressing against his upper thigh isn’t exactly something one can lie about.

Chris tries with every ounce of strength his tired brain has to control himself. He stays still, arms at his sides. His body is suddenly very aware of how Lewis is lying across him. From their feet to stomach they are touching. Lewis holds his chest up, hands on either side of Chris’ biceps. Chris could make a move. Everything is up in the air right now. But he takes a breath and keeps his cool, to leave this up to Lewis. Let the other decide for himself where he wants to take things.

“What are you going to do about it?” Chris prompts. He’s firm, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his voice. He hopes it’s enough to not scare Lewis away.

Instead of replying, Lewis moves a little to the left. Their crotches line up, and even though there are two layers between them, those layers are quite thin. Lewis slowly lowers himself, and Chris expects that the man is going to kiss him. Instead, Lewis tips his head to the side, going directly for Chris’ neck. The wet slide of his tongue and sharp nip of teeth makes Chris’ hands twitch.

“What are you, a vampire? Don’t leave any marks,” Chris warns. He does not want to be questioned later about any strange discoloration in noticeable places.

Lewis obeys his request and goes lower, pulling aside his shirt. Chris bites his lip as Lewis sucks on his collarbone. Unfortunately it’s a sensitive spot and Chris can’t help the way his hips give a small jerk. Lewis pauses. Then Chris is clenching his teeth to stop a moan from slipping out from the way Lewis grinds down against him. Chris suddenly feels giddy, like he’s a teenager messing around in the dark with a friend. Essentially it’s what they’re doing, except both are over thirty and Chris knows that he probably shouldn’t be going along with it so easily. But he is because he’s made up his mind. He wants Lewis.

Chris frees his hands and goes straight for Lewis’ ass. He slides them under the sleep pants, not at all surprised to find bare skin. Fitting the two mounds in his palms Chris pushes them down while he rolls his lower half up. The result is like a spark that only lasts briefly. So he does it again and this time it continues a little longer.

Lewis starts to pant against his chest. He lifts his head and finally kisses Chris. It’s wet and desperate. Chris wants to know how long Lewis has thought about doing this. He wants to interrogate Lewis, ask him every filthy question he can think of, but he can’t. If he did, it would mean they’d have to stop kissing. So Chris keeps to himself. He lets Lewis rock against him, building the pressure between their legs until the fabric between them is annoying.

Chris moves his hands and pushes Lewis to his side. He hastily kicks the blankets to the end of bed and pulls off his own sleep pants. Unlike Lewis he has on boxers, so he removes those as well. Chris is on autopilot. His pulls off his shirt before reaching out a hand and finding Lewis’ leg. He yanks on Lewis’ pants until they are off.

Lewis stares up at him. Chris realizes that their positions have become reversed and it gives him an impulsive sense of power. He straddles Lewis and in one hand barely manages to grip both their cocks. Chris swears and drops his head until their foreheads touch. He’s still tired, his brain demanding he go back to sleep since there are only a few precious hours left. Every other part of him wants more of the addictive buzz that rutting against Lewis gives him. His hand is rough but the pulls he gives them feel fantastic.

“Sips,” Lewis breathes out against his lips.

It’s weird, how Lewis never calls him by his actual name. Even when they are alone, his nickname is what takes priority. It doesn’t make him mad or anything, he just finds it a bit odd. Then again, Lewis has been calling him Sips for so many years now that maybe it’s become involuntary.

Lewis wraps an arm around his back, and Chris brings their bodies together. He moves his head to the side so that his chin rests on Lewis’ shoulder. Chris mouths at Lewis’ ear, and he’s suddenly fully aware of what they are actually doing. It isn’t much to him. It’s something kids do. Chris thinks about how he wants to fuck Lewis, to do more than just a stupid handjob and some dry humping.

“Then do it.” Lewis’ strained voice surprises him.

Chris stops. “What?”

“Do it. Fuck me.”

Chris’ mind catches up with him. He must have said his thoughts out loud. His mouth goes dry and he has to tighten his hand to curb his arousal. Lewis is giving him explicit permission. He wants to flip the man over right then, but he can’t. _They_ can’t. There were those pesky rules. He’d already broken several just by doing this. If he were to go farther… What was the point of no return? Would he have to screw Lewis in order to be considered a bad guy, a cheater? Maybe he was already that now. Chris takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment. No, he won’t let it get to him. He won’t care about shit like that. This is Lewis. He’s important in his own weirdly special way.

Still, Chris ends up shaking his head. “We can’t. We don’t have any lube.” It’s at least part of the real reason.

“I have some in my bag,” Lewis says. He isn’t shy about it either.

Chris sits back, letting go of their cocks. Lewis stares up at him.

“Did you plan this?” Chris questions. He’s honestly surprised.

“I… just like to be prepared for anything. It’s the way I am. I pack a lot of shit I don’t ever use-”

“Okay. Just… okay.” Chris takes a moment to sort his thoughts. He still wants to do this. Actually, he wants to do this now more than before. “Go get it,” Chris says, and it sounds final to him. It’s satisfying, making up his mind.

Lewis slides out from under him and to the floor. Chris uses the time to close his eyes and clear his head. He’s a little less drowsy and a lot hornier. Vaguely he wonders what Lewis’ level of experience is. He’d always had his speculations, but his questions had always been layered within jokes during conversations. He knows very miniscule about the other man’s sex life, and he’s okay with that. Except now it sort of matters. Chris decides to wait and take things as they come.

The bed dips and Lewis brushes against Chris’ side as he adjusts the pillows into a neater stack. Chris sits quietly, mind still running. He likes the current atmosphere, but there’s an underlying feeling of wrongness. He glances at the lamp. He can’t bring himself to turn it on. Turning it on would solidify their actions. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, he can see just fine now. There’s even a misty luminosity starting to creep in around the edge of the curtains. It’s becoming day. The sun will probably be up in an hour. Chris doesn’t think he’ll sleep after this.

Lewis relaxes back. Chris leans over him, noticing that Lewis looks a bit different with his short bangs mussed against his forehead. He looks somewhat younger. Not that he ever looks old. Well sometimes he does, if he’s been stressed and sleepless. But not now. The longer Chris stares at him, the more strange he starts to appear.

“Sips?”

His name makes everything revert back to normal. Chris breathes deeply. Can he fuck Lewis like this, looking at his face? Even though it’s dark, even though he could close his eyes, Chris doesn’t know any more if he deserves to see how Lewis will look. It might make it that much harder to treat this lightly.

“Get yourself ready,” Chris manages to say. He doesn’t trust himself in this state. He’s still hard, he still wants to fuck Lewis, but that nagging feeling is back. He could really go for one of those gins in the mini fridge right now.

“All right,” Lewis replies and pops the cap. Chris watches, not very interested in the way Lewis spreads his legs and pushes his fingers into his ass. Chris wonders what it is about Lewis that draws him to the man. Overall he’s attractive, but maybe it’s his voice that really hits home. Chris drags his eyes up Lewis’ shirt clad chest until he meets the other’s gaze. Lewis’ mouth is parted, but he’s relatively quiet. It’s a bit unnerving.

“Make some noise, will you?” Chris almost regrets asking. Almost.

“What do you want me to say?” Lewis pants, and there’s a hint of a smile in his words.

“Something sexy.” Chris is starting to joke at this point, but still hopes that Lewis will deliver. The man beneath him remains silent, and Chris thinks that maybe he’s asking for too much. They’ve already come this far, why can’t he be content with that?

“Like… dirty talk?” Lewis’ voice has gone softer. He sounds embarrassed. Chris rubs at his eyes.

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Chris hopes he doesn’t appear disappointed, because he isn’t. He adds, “You’re fine the way you are.”

“All right,” Lewis says, but he doesn’t sound very convinced.

Chris mentally hits himself. He always says dumb shit at all the wrong times. “It’s just,” Chris starts to ramble a bit, “I could probably jerk off to your waffling. If we didn’t record ourselves for team DD and if I didn’t have to use both hands to play games, your voice could get me off. That’s all I’m suggesting.” Chris feels his face warm and he bites his tongue.

Lewis’ eyes widen and the corners of his mouth tip up. “Oh. That’s… Well, I’m flattered, really. No one’s said that to me before.”

“Are you ready?” Chris desperately tries to change the subject. Things are getting more sentimental than he would prefer.

Lewis removes his fingers and pushes the lube into Chris’ hands. Chris coats his cock, frankly amazed that he’s been able to stay as hard as he has throughout this whole situation. There’s a moment when Chris opens his mouth, ready to tell Lewis to turn around. But the words stick in his throat. Chris sluggishly leans over Lewis and turns on the lamp. A final decision.

He looks down at Lewis. It’s better this way, being able to see everything. Chris picks up one of Lewis’ legs and places it over his shoulder. He bends forward until their faces are close. Chris guides his cock to the right place and eases in. Lewis swears and grips onto his shoulders, eyes squeezing shut. Chris kisses him, hoping that it’s enough, that it’ll help. It grounds Chris and refills him with a sense of urgency. Lewis is ridiculously tight, and the heat of him makes Chris question if this could possibly be a dream.

But he knows it isn’t. Lewis is actually underneath him, digging nails into his back and pushing against his mouth frantically. Chris returns the kiss with fervor, pulling his hips back only to gradually bring them forward. He comes to the realization that they aren’t even using a condom. Even so, he doesn’t worry about it. The thought is already disintegrating from his mind as Lewis whines sweetly into his mouth. There, that’s a sound he had been waiting for.

Chris sits back more fully on his knees, using the position to his advantage. His thrusts come harder, and Lewis wraps a hand around his cock, the other digging into the mattress. Chris watches his face closely, changing angles slightly each time, testing, waiting.

“ _Shit_ ,” Lewis says, and it’s followed by a low groan.

Chris stays there, wanting nothing more than for Lewis to voice how he feels through a variety of noises. The shirt he’s wearing darkens in a line down his chest. Chris reaches for it and pushes it up to Lewis’ neck. He runs his hand over the protruding collarbone, right to left, before sliding down his sternum. The feint outline of ribs displeases Chris, but he knows there’s nothing he can do about it. Lewis is wiry and in a way delicate looking. Chris brings his hand back up and pinches a dark nipple.

“Sips! What are you doing?” Lewis sounds a bit wrecked, but there’s a hint of amusement there as well.

“What’s it look like? Playing with your nipples.”

There’s a lot of room for a comeback, but Lewis doesn’t take the opportunity to reply. Chris lays off the teasing after he’s had his fill. It had made Lewis quiet again. Chris instead picks up Lewis’ other leg and leans forward again slowly. He hopes it’s not too uncomfortable. It raises Lewis’ ass up farther, letting Chris at a much deeper angle. He stares at Lewis’ face again, but the man has his eyes closed.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sips. Don’t you dare stop.”

Chris considers it, just to see what Lewis would do. But he likes to believe that he’s a decent lover, so he does as Lewis says. The slap of skin is much louder, and Chris really hopes no one next to their room can hear it. At least the headboard is fastened securely to the wall.

A glance down shows that Lewis’ hand is frantically pumping his cock, precome running down his fingers. It’s pretty hot, coupled with Lewis’ strangled moans that bubble up between his panting. Chris wonders how long they’ve been doing this for. He feels the crest of orgasm descending on him. He’d like nothing more than to draw this out for as long as possible, to actually be able to flip Lewis over and really give it to him good. But now isn’t the time or place, and even though he doesn’t know if this is going to happen again (or if it should), Chris doesn’t try to stall for much longer. He knows Lewis must be close as well.

Several more rough thrusts in combined with slow drags out has Chris’ holding his breath. Lewis’ back gradually starts to bow and his chest rises. A smothered cry leaves Lewis gasping for air, come splattering his stomach in long pearly lines. Chris just about loses it right there, but remembers that it would probably be rude to come inside someone without asking. So he pulls out and jerks his cock over Lewis’ until his own seed is mixing with Lewis’.

There’s a lot he wants to say, a lot he wants to ask, but Chris keeps the words to himself. They both are still as they breathe heavily, enjoying the dwindling feeling of pleasure. Lewis looks down at the mess on his stomach and lets out a laugh. He pulls off his shirt and to Chris’ disgust wipes at the come before he throws it to the floor.

It’s almost awkward, Chris finds, the way he kneels in front of Lewis, fully naked, the lamp light leaving only shadows behind him. But Lewis himself is naked too, sprawled on the bed. He looks content, and Chris can’t tell if there’s a smugness to his smile or not. He’s still tired.

“Time to sleep?” Lewis asks casually, an eyebrow raised.

Chris shrugs and pulls the blankets back up. He lies down next to Lewis and covers them. There’s a moment when he isn’t sure what to do. There are a range of possibilities, but he guesses he’s chosen the most obvious one by staying in the same bed as Lewis. Chris closes his eyes.

Next to him, Lewis moves around until Chris feels the press of skin at his side. Lewis drapes an arm across his chest, along with a leg over his own. The warmth is surprisingly comforting.  

“Is this okay?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah. It’s okay.” Because it is. Chris succumbs to the fact that everything is going to be okay.

They leave the light on. With an hour before they have to be up, Chris is easily able to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The soundtrack for this was Ezra by Flume, on repeat for many hours. I wonder if it had any effect on this. Either way I love these stupid dads a bunch and want to write more with them.


End file.
